Text From ‘Mopicoprudicol’ (2001)
I walk over the sands; I walk over the hot sands, the white sands and I am urged to look up at the sky. I see a thousand fiery angels. There are angels in the sky with me. There are a thousand fiery angels as I stand on the beach, the sandy beach, the hot white sandy beach next to the cool sea, the cool sea where I walked, where you walked, and only I can see them. Just me- and this has never happened before.
And the light is blinding
And I don’t know what to say.
“ god fill me with your light”
And the angels tell me what to do.
The thousand fiery angels tell me what to do
Tell me, on the white beach by the cool sea,
The hot beach by the cool sea; they tell me to walk over the water. They will hold me. There is no fear.
They will hold me in their long arms, and so I walk on the water- I laugh -
I walk on the water and the angels are holding me. My feet tingle and the beach falls away. There is no one around.
I put one foot before another - and all the fish in the lake are kissing my feet. Thousand upon thousand of carp are biting me-but it tickles. The fish at my feet look up at me. And they are drowning as they touch me; their eyes becoming dull. They sink to the bottom of the lake and become fossils. They become rock, and I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do because all the fish are kissing my feet and becoming rock. The fish look at me with their eyes, their big eyes, their big round eyes; as big as moons, and I don’t know what to do. I turn around but the beach has gone.
The beach has gone- I don’t know where it has gone, but it has gone and I don’t know where I am.
The angels are still there, holding me with their long arms and they tell me to walk.
They tell me, a thousand fiery angels, to walk on the water of the cool lake, to walk on the water and not to be afraid. And I am all alone. Not a man or a woman in sight. And I want to hold someone’s hand. His hand. Her hand even your hand. But I am all alone, walking on water; my feet tingling as my feet are kissed by thousands of fish.
I see a boat in the distance.
There is a small boat in the distance. And I am walking toward the boat, my feet barely touching the water. And the angels are urging me on. They want me to walk towards the boat. I am walking on water, towards the boat, all alone. Only I can see the fiery angels and I do not deserve this. All this. I do not deserve this. But I am walking towards the boat, and the boat is getting larger. And the beach still has my footprints on it. They are still there, they are still there, but they are being blown away by a cool wind. The fiery angels blow them away, and the cool wind blows the sand into hills, hills of golden sand, golden sand, millions of grains of golden sand.
They could tell you how many grains of sand there were, but not me. I could not tell you.
I am walking towards a boat and I can see more as I get closer. I can see more. And the fiery angels in the sky hold me. Hold me and tell me to walk on. I walk on and my feet are tingling and my body is tingling
I can see people in the boat. I can see twelve people in the boat. It is a small boat. And there are twelve in the boat. It is a small boat. And it is too small for twelve people.
But it is big enough for me.
It is big enough for me and the thousand fiery angels but not for you. It is not big enough for you. It will never be big enough for you. It is not big enough for the twelve people. They have to go. They have to go because there is not enough room. It is my boat. Not their boat. It is my boat, and they have to go.
The fish are kissing my feet.
I am allowed to witness the platinum supernova. I can see the light fill the sky. I am the only one to see this. None of you can see this. It is mine. You will never see it. None of you will ever see it.
I walk towards the boat upon the empty sea. The cool sea. The twelve men in the boat are fishing. They fish with their nets, but they do not know how to fish. There are no fish in their nets. There will never be any fish in their nets. The fish are with me. The fish are with me and are kissing my feet and dying, their big moon eyes becoming still and sinking into the ooze, becoming stone, becoming rocks. They are rock.
My hands are feeling warm. My hands are feeling warm, and I look down and can see knives and axes in my hands. The thousand fiery angels are putting knives and axes in my hands. And they burn me. And I am walking on the water and thousand upon thousand of fish are kissing my feet and dying, sinking into the ooze and becoming stone. And I approach the boat laden with knives and axes and the twelve sailors look at me and smile. I lift my hands to them. I lift my big hands to them, but they do not see. They do not see the knives and the axes as I raise my hands towards them and the fiery sun burns my arms and burns the nape of my neck as I am approaching them. And they cannot see. They will never see. I look at them, and see their eyes. I look at them and see the teeth between their beards.. And I am told what to do by the thousand fiery angels but I do not want to. I am afraid to. But I am told to because the boat that floats is too small. It is too small for the twelve sailors. I wish it was big enough for them and me and the thousand fiery angels, but it is not, and so I am told what to do, and the sun is bright, the bright sun shines, and the sea is still and I float above the water into the boat and the thousand fiery angels ring their finger bells, and the chiming rings around me so sweetly that I close my eyes and lift the heavy axe above my head. I lift it above my head and look up to see the sky and all I can see are feet. There are feet above me and the sky is bright and I let the axe fall. It’s a falling axe. It’s heavy. It’s a heavy axe. I don’t see what cuts through because my eyes are closed. But it cuts through something, and something is wet on my face.
The axe falls and my eyes are closed…
The axe falls and my eyes are closed and the sea is silent. The axe falls on him. It falls on them. And my arms are itchy with sweat and my shoulders are cramping. I open my eyes and look down. It’s a mess because the axe has fallen on them and has fallen them and it is a heavy axe, but the thousand fiery angels are holding my arms. I look down at the red mess in the boat and I see white things that become eyes, eyes that are gazing up at me, big white eyes and they blink as they look at me and I stand on their nets, their empty nets that only caught the waters of the cool sea, never caught fish; because the fish were mine. And I am standing on the nets in the empty boat, in my boat and I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know what to say.
There is no sound there is no sound there has never been any sound. The angels have stopped ringing their finger-bells and there is no sound except the sound of the fish who swim around the boat. And the fish want me, want me to walk on them, to turn them to stone, to turn their big eyes into fossils, but I am on the boat, on the empty boat on the empty nets, and the boat is big enough for me and the thousand fiery angles. But the boat is not ready. I kneel down on my knees, I kneel and hold the eyes that look at me the blue eyes, the brown eyes, the green eyes, the grey eyes, and I throw them high into the sky and they fly upward, past the thousand fiery angels until I cannot see them any more. I throw the eyes so they become stars and the blue sky has new stars shining down upon me. And this is all too much for me. I do not deserve all this. And then I hear a roar- a loud fiery roar and the noise is so loud that I stand on the fore of the boat and I see the blue sky turn red as the sun sets and the stars are coming out and they look at me and then I look up and see the thousand fiery angels, and I want to be with the them, the fish. The fish want me, and start swimming around the boat, trying to look at me with their shiny eyes, and they swim faster and faster until the boat begins to spin spin spin and I am spinning, and the thousand of thousand of fish are swimming fast and tight, they raise the boat up and I am getting closer to the thousand fiery angels, and the fish are swimming, so fast that they rise out of the water on a spinning column of fish, but they cannot touch me. They want me but cannot touch me, and they are lifting me higher, closer and closer to the fiery angels, and I can touch their feet, their glowing feet high up in the red sky. I am spinning so fast that I become dizzy and I want to sit, but I don’t I don’t.
I look down and I can see everything. The angels are all around me and I am blinded by their light. The fish fall back into the sea, the cool sea, and they are mine, and I will be back, to walk on them, but I am high, and the thousand fiery angels are with me, and with me in the boat. My boat, our boat, and we begin to move, spinning in the air, and I am happy.
I know what to do
I know where I am.
I know where I am going.
Text from ‘Mary Takes A Walk’ (2002)
The evening comes on with its colors burning the clouds and I prepare for sleep… I prepare for sleep as the air grows cold and my fur is wrapped around me and I fall asleep…
I begin to dream and I am spinning up from my bed through dark clouds behind which are tall mountains, tall mountains covered in ice and furry white goats that bray and sing as they stumble over the glacier and I have been here before and I have been here before and I am overwhelmed because I am welcome.. My legs are shaking because I know what will come and I am excited as I stand on grass and flowers as the light fades and then the stars, millions of stars puncture the sky and I find myself on cold snow that cradles me and from nowhere you are here and you are meant for me. You burn beside me and I need you inside me because I have never been so happy and I cannot control myself and I hear myself moving my mouth I hear myself saying these words…
And I do not understand what I am saying. I do not understand….
I open my eyes and I am looking at cold dark sand that never ends and it is dark…I wish it was not so dark, and I hear my husband. I hear him snoring and I hate him, I want to crush him so much but I cannot; I cannot and I must leave and I stand up and I don’t know where to go and I feel bad and confused and I wish I wasn’t…
I am looking for you because you can fill me because you are everywhere and you can have me and I don’t know what that is like but I must know…but I don’t know where you are
My breasts are aching and I have to move, and I look towards the town… no and I look at the river… I look at the beach and there are people there, and I look towards the mountains and I know with the bottom of my heart that you are there.
I walk towards the mountains, because I have to, I have to because. You make me shine and I will walk anywhere for you. And I can hear crunching as I walk on the sand and I feel bad, bad so bad and I know that I cannot forgive myself as I leave him, because he’s not so bad, he’s not so bad but why should I stay? I better not come back because he will be incredibly angry with me, he will scream and rave and I shall cower and shiver and then he will bring his axe out and be all righteous and he will swing his axe and he will swing his axe and I will hear a swift swoosh as his axe hits me..
And I don’t deserve this. I do not want to die.
I am crying…I am not a bad girl…I am a good girl, yes a good girl because you want me.
I am before the mountains and they are massive. They tower above me and I am dizzy for you and I begin to climb, and my hands are hurting and I am suddenly high up, and I have never been this high before but I know, I know that you are here and you protect me with your big arms.
The air is cold. Clouds are falling onto me and the rock becomes icy. I look above me and the sky is red…and I know, I know that you are there and I rush to you.
I slip and fall.
It is hard
I am weak.
I want what I cannot have and I am a bad girl.
And I am crying floods of tears oh look down for me…
And suddenly I hear breathing. A goat stands before me. And it tells me “you” and I say me? And it nods and I climb onto its back and hold onto its frost sparkly horns
The goat climbs over the mountain, over the high mountain and I am drooling and my drool becomes icicles that snap when they drag on the snow and the drool makes new icicles that grow until they snap and I do not know where I am. But I know that the goat is carrying me to you, and you are there and the snow that you have made glows red with your fire, and I am deposited there and the trees creak and groan as they gather round me and black hands grow and wrap around my naked legs and move them apart and I am twitching because I am scared… because this is all too much and I am so wet but your fiery glow is moving over me. It is hot and my skin crackles and blisters with your flames, and I am filled by your light and it hurts so much as it feels great and I feel happy... I am great and I am howling madly because I am so happy!
And I close my eyes because I know so much; I know so much now and I know that we are all diamonds. We will all become diamonds as the fiery star explodes and burns the planets and the gravity crushes us and we will be a shoal of sparkling diamonds moving majestically through the black space between the stars….
Your flames dance upon me and they land upon my skin and enter me. They burn through me and I swallow them up, and I can feel massive things moving inside me and it hurts because they are making me into a hollow thing filled with your fire burning me through and your flames scream as they travel down tubes and soft gullies and they gather into a hard ball and I feel things swelling and exploding wildly… then more, much more and I can feel things growing inside me, in me and I am more than I was because this is ours. This is ours, …and I open my eyes and your glow fades and you go…. I don’t know where you go and I want you to return because I love you and I am missing you.
I am missing you. I am distraught and I crawl after you but a heavy panic descends and herons and doves swoop and attack me with their beaks and my hair is all tangled and dropping down, I hear you booming and you tell me to focus at the earth… look down at the earth look look down at the earth and the birds force me to look down and I am slurring my speech, in tears because I am unhappy but who am I to understand…oh man… because he is right…I must look down …not up... Down…and he tells me that down is where I belong and I am agreeing not disagreeing anymore and then the sun shines and the birds fly off and my hair is combed neatly but in a new way... and I look down and I can see the world and it is beautiful and my heart begins to ache because I remember you asleep and I remember you asleep and smiling and I wonder where you are and how you are doing because I am so lonely.
I wander aimlessly…there are no clouds and there are massive orchids everywhere that sway in the wind. I see the orange beach far below me as I peer over the rocky cliffs and I can see you and I know that you will never leave me because you need me.
I enter a fast river and it is cold. It flows over the mountain to the sea, the turquoise sea with cresting white waves where you are and I am coming to you and I am not afraid..
Because I will tell you the truth..
Because you will know what I know and you will believe me even though I am so young and you are old....
You and I are good,
But,
We are ugly alone.
We can be beautiful together…
(To follow)
Text from ‘Never Outshine The Master’ 2005
Text from ‘The House Of The Wild Things’ 2007 (incomplete due to computer crash)
It’s 2.20 in the morning… Unable to sleep, I get into the car and drive.
In what feels like a short amount of time I leave the city behind, it’s streetlights and gas stations, warehouses, factories, sleeping tramps and lost dogs, bakeries, past the final sodium light, following the freeway into darkness as it cuts a swathe through the vast forest.
Trees bristle right up to the edges of the road, and mind is filled with anger and I turn the radio on to distract myself. I start fiddling with the dial, looking for the right song. The Classical music station plays something too frilly and ornate, so I travel up the dial to 93.1 FM, and Duran Duran’s ‘Rio’ pours out of my speakers. I’m twirling the dial, not noticing the road curving until the tires drum-roll over the rumble strip. I’m steering too quickly, too far. I spin out of control in a cloud of smoke, ending up facing the wrong way.
Shocked, but relieved, I drive to the verge, open the window, breathing deeply, looking around. I have stopped by the entrance of a tiny lane, disappearing off into the trees. There is nothing to indicate what is at the end of the lane except a tiny sign with six stars sculpted onto it.
I like the way the stars have been gilded.
“Why not?” I think.
I begin to drive down the tiny lane. It’s full of potholes. There’s a grassy ridge that brushes noisily against the underside of the car that rocks back and forth over the furrows.
The lane narrows; branches and leaves smack and drag against the car. Spooked, I turn the radio on again, but strangely, all I pick up is interference, which I keep on low.
I open the windows, welcoming the cool air. The suspension creaks loudly as it bottoms out over rocks and deep puddles. Bugs cluster around the headlights. Possums and other things look at me from the undergrowth, their eyes shining. Sometimes I stop and look into the dark, though I cannot see very far as the forest has become impenetrably lush.
Peering up through the windscreen, I see massive intertwining branches covered in lichen.
Then my radio starts working. A growling voice introduces a song, which is the Rolling Stones’ “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.” I’m overjoyed because I love this song. The choirboy intro fills the car followed by an acoustic guitar and a solo horn focuses the song with a few chords. Tentatively, Mick starts singing: “I saw her today at the reception…” I’m singing along, badly. I follow the road around a bend. Up ahead there is a faint white glow, its intensity growing as I draw near. I turn another tight corner and find that an enormous tree has fallen across the lane, blocking the lane. Turning off the engine, I sit and listen to the song’s climax while trying to decide what to do, which is hard because even the idea of investigating pumps me up. I think some exciting is happening, there in the light. I get out of the car, my heart pounding with anticipation.
I clamber over the log, walking towards the light, which is intense and seemingly coming from many points.
The lane veers again, this time back into the dark, and I’m walking into the backlit forest. My feet swish through brambles, snapping thick brittle sticks.
And then it ends, the trees giving way to an edging of ferns. I’ve stumbled upon a vast clearing in the woods. Stadium lights shine onto a lush lawn surrounding an ersatz ‘French Château’.
And it’s inhabited. It looks like there is a costume party in progress. Everyone is dressed up as monsters, large monsters; striding over the grass. Some sport bright fur, and even from here I can see that the costumes are excellent; the headpieces alive and richly detailed. Every now and again one seems to be laughing, but all I hear are roars, growls and screeches. Some wear bathrobes, others, just a T-shirt. One monster minds the barbeque, while another plays golf, hitting the little white balls that do not roll very far. I am not sure why the balls do not travel so far. Maybe they are ‘soft’. Maybe they are…
I feel something tap my shoulder. I move to brush it off, but my hand touches something warm and furry, sharp. Turning my head, I see an array of long, shiny, black claws sprouting from an explosion of bright orange fur.
I turn around, slowly. Before me stands one of the monsters, its massive round head smiling.
This is not a costume. I smile back weakly, wishing I had my gun, though I doubt how useful it would have been.
“Hey!” It says. “Welcome! Why not come and join us for a drink and some food?”
Speechless, I nod slowly, and I am led onto a lawn. As we approach the mansion, I see other monsters noticing me, and they wave me over. I walk past the croquet lawn, looking at the strange pink, brown and red balls.
They seem to leave red trails when they are hit, and so I pay more attention and notice that they have hair on them, which seems strange. Then I see that each ball has a mouth, a smashed nose, and bloody eye sockets.
I faint, vomiting as I crumple.
Sometime later I wake up, surrounded by monsters. They look concerned and I’m offered a drink, One of them dabs the sick from my chin.
“We were worried there for a moment, old chum!” One says.
I get up, accepting the drink, a whiskey, an aged Macallan. I give up the idea of running away for now. I look at my hosts. There are six of them, all with big yellow eyes and teeth.
And they tower over me.
“Hi! I’m Dean!” says one monster, lifting me up. He looks like a mix of many birds, with his raptor’s beak and chicken’s comb. Using his wing, he introduces the other creatures.
“Here is Jeffrey, Taft, Pat, Michael and Juan.”
Jeffrey looks like a sedate, two-legged bull with human feet. He seems nice. Michael, the one that found me, has the body of a bear, an ugly head with a large, bulbous nose. He leers at me. Taft has rust colored hair, combed with a center parting, dreamy eyes and duck feet. Pat is Lion-like, but his head is studded with sharp horns and he has a muzzle full of crocodile teeth. Juan, the smallest of them, looks like a goat, with soft white fur and curly horns on his head. He skips around nervously.
Each of them greets me differently, shaking my hand, patting my back, bowing, or opening their mouths to show me their teeth.
I’m handed a white terry bathrobe and some more whiskey. Juan trots off, returning with a recliner.
“We are just finishing our games!” Juan bleats. “Why don’t you sit down on this and relax. You can join in later!”
They waddle off.
With glass in hand, I explore. Behind the house there is a big loom where Pat is weaving. Looking closer, I see that he is making a rug out of intestines, shiny and bluish. At his feet a bleeding man is tying up the ends of the innards that he pulls from a black trash bag.
“They feel so good on the feet!” Pat explains. “Do you like the cool details?” He enthuses, pointing to a dangling pancreas.
I say nothing; shuffling on, turning the corner, nearly walking into the barbeque.
“Here!” says Taft, in a haze of smoke, standing behind the grill, handing me a steak sandwich. It tastes so good that I eat it quickly, though I’m chewing on a piece of fat that I eventually have to pull out of my mouth. It’s a piece of skin with a fragment of a tattoo on it. I’m retching, but it seems pointless to throw it away, so I force myself to swallow it.
Blood curdling screams echo off walls, making me jump, and I see Dean pushing kebab sticks through the arms of a human.
I run up to him asking, “What the hell are you doing?’”
“Oh!” He says, “I’m playing this game called “Make Him Scream Very Loudly Indeed!”
I notice that the human has a microphone near his mouth, and his screams move a large dial in a box. Another monster, Jeffrey, I think, walks up and says, “Here, let me!” shoving the man’s hand into a large thick plastic bag filled with water and Piranha fish. As the man screams and jolts in his harness of bones, two pairs of monster eyes widen with joy.
I wander back to my recliner, fearful. I cover my eyes with my arms as I block out the light. I’m dozing, but a sticky paw nudges me awake.
“Hey, guess what?” roars Pat, “We have a little something for you!” I open my eyes and see that the monsters have dragged a net full of humans to my feet.
“Please forgive us!” Pat says over the moans coming from the writhing net. “We’re so sorry! We were having such a ball that we forgot that you might want to join in. These are for you!”
I glance at the people in the net.
“No thanks.” I say, covering my eyes again.
“Oh, come on!” they say in unison.
“No! I’m serious!” I reply.
“Are you in a bad mood?” They ask.
“Of course not! This is so boring... Boring! Boring! Boring! I have killed and tortured so many of these things that I have lost count! They are all the same! They scream, and then they stop screaming! I’m done!”
I sit up. “I would like to do something different.”
The monsters eyes widen. “But it’s so much fun!”
“It’s not!” I huff, crossing my arms.
“What do you suggest?” They say.
I rub my chin thoughtfully. “I think we should set them free. We will give them a few hours to run away, and then we’ll catch them. They need a bit of exercise, and so do we.”
“Uh-huh…” They say.
I stand up and look into their eyes. “And while they escape, we will have a party!”
“Mmmmm…” They hum. Silence. “Sounds like a plan!” says Juan. “Sounds like a great idea!” says Pat. “Very Cool!” says Dean. “I like it!” says Jeffrey. Taft nods his head slowly.
The humans are set free. They run for the trees.
I fill the CD full of party tracks. Jeffrey organizes the drinks while Juan sorts out the lighting. As he lights the candles, Dean and Pat come round with some snack trays. The drinks are delicious and I turn the music on.
Later, once the alcohol begins to kick in, I shout, “Who knows how to dance?” The monsters all shrug. I start jumping up and down, and the monsters mimic me, sheepishly at first, but then enthusiastically. Soon they are giggling as they leap up to the full moon.
I’m howling like a wolf. Taft waves his arms in the air while Juan pirouettes. They keep drinking heavily, ladling more and more mulled wine into their glasses. As soon as they seem not to care, I put down my drink, finding a glass of water instead. I look at Dean, finishing a pile of barbequed arms, concentrating as he wipes his lips onto a big napkin. I wave him over, and we all dance in a circle.
When Tom Jones’ ‘Delilah’ plays, I leap up so high that I reach the branch of a tree, and there I hang, kicking my legs. The other monster laugh so hard that they fall over, rolling in the grass. But what I am doing seems fun, and they jump up too, swinging in the trees, though Jeffrey’s branch bends, and he keeps sliding off. Then we fall back to the ground, and as a slow track plays, Juan and Pat dance together, and we all watch.
I can see that they are tiring. It’s late. I put some country music on, and as it plays, their eyes become heavier and heavier, until they are all asleep, either propped up against the tree trunks, or laid out on the grass. The sense of relief I’m feeling is overwhelming. I sit amongst the monsters, their bellies gurgling, digesting their foul repast.
I plan my escape. To get to my car I have to cut across the entire lawn, past the mansion. I slowly stand up, careful not to make a sound. I tip-toe over the monsters, heading for the open lawn, ghostly in the moonlight. Soon I am running to my car, to freedom, but as I look back to see if any of the monsters have awoken, I step into something brittle that crunches loudly. Falling, I see that I’ve stepped into a dried ribcage. I look up, knowing that I’ll see the monsters waking from their slumber.
I’m twisting my foot violently, unable to prize it out.
I see ten yellow eyes blinking at me.
I stumble to my feet, backing away, smiling.
As they realize my intentions, they run towards me, shouting, “Wait! Wait! Please don’t go!”
I’m hobbling, the ribcage gripping my foot painfully, shredding it with bone splinters.
Desperate, I panic, swinging my trapped foot around, banging it onto the grass. But somehow the fear concentrates my mind.
With my other foot, I start stomping on the ribs, breaking the bones like chopsticks, freeing myself. The monsters are close now, gaining on me. Taft runs fast on his short legs, while Dean can fly for a few feet at a time. I sprint to the house, slamming shut the big wooden door behind me. Turning left, I see a wide stone staircase, a doorway, slightly ajar. I run to it. Shutting the door after I enter, I can’t find the light, and I’m stumbling in the dark, almost falling down the steps, patting the air as I try to find a wall.
A foul smell fills the damp air; increasing in strength as I stumble down the steps. I hear the monsters lope around the mansion above, calling out for me in seemingly concerned voices. I edge deeper into the cellar, if that is what it is, my feet crunching on gravel.
But then I slip on something slimy. My hand touches a large wet pile of muddy sticks. The smell is overpowering.
Wiping my hands on my pants, I edge away, bumping into more rotting piles. An enormous flickering above; a deafening, though familiar noise. The lights turn on. Squinting, I see that I’m standing in a huge space lit by thousands of fluorescent lights. In precise rows are piles of rotting corpses on trays, some totally smothered in green mold. Above them hang signs that say, ‘FIRST PRESSING’, ‘SECOND PRESSING’, and ‘RESERVE’. There is a bottling plant on one side of the hall.
From the staircase I hear voices…
“Maybe he’s in the cellar!” I hear Jeffrey say. “Yeah, good idea!” says Taft, enthusiastically, adding, “We can have some gooey meat cheese slurps while we look!”
As they stomp down the stairs I run and hide behind one of the corpse piles, trying to suppress my nausea and my forced breathing. Before they can see me, I pull a low laying body from the mound on top of me, causing the whole stinking pile to topple over onto me, covering me. Hearing the noise, the monsters run into the cellar.
Terrified, I wait as they search the floor, looking at each and every corpse mound. Eventually they come to the one where I am hiding.
Seeing that it has collapsed, they peer in, curious. Through the bones and the flesh I can see Taft above. Thankfully, he soon becomes distracted, pulling a head off, shaking it like a coconut, smiling as he hears a healthy sloshing inside.
“Ahhhhhh… It’s ready!” he says, raising the skull above his tilted head, rotating it so that a stream of blackish lumps splash messily into his mouth.
“It’s soooo good!” He exclaims dreamily.
Jeffrey stands by the pile, scratching his chin thoughtfully. I hold my breath, trying not to move as the bodies liquefy around me.
Several long minutes pass.
“These things fall down all the time. Lets go upstairs” says Jeffrey.
They turn to leave, but just as I am exhaling, Jeffrey stops, and walks back.
“What are you looking at?” says Taft.
“Footprints in the salt.” Replies Jeffrey. “They lead right up to the pile…”
Silence.
I panic. I jump up, not waiting to be discovered, running as fast as I can.
“Wait!” Jeffrey shouts. I sprint towards the far wall, which is a long way off, with Taft and Jeffrey in pursuit. They are gaining on me, though I am the more agile; darting in between the corpse piles as they simply smash though them.
I head back for the stairs, and reach the first step as Jeffrey tackles me, causing us to fall...
